


Three Years in Insanity

by kingkoblih



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Post canon, tw depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-04 14:42:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12170940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingkoblih/pseuds/kingkoblih
Summary: The last follow-up of the "Week in Sweden" and "Five Years in Sweden" oneshots, which takes place three years after the tragic happenings of the last fic.





	Three Years in Insanity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the whole Emimike fandom. I'm sorry for breaking your hearts. I love you all.](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=the+whole+Emimike+fandom.+I%27m+sorry+for+breaking+your+hearts.+I+love+you+all.).



_“It’s day 58 of the tour. We’re still sane, no one’s threatened to kill everyone else yet. I think we’re off to a good tour this time. We have a few things up our sleeves for the Philadelphia show, people will definitely freak out._  
_We had to set up some special safety measurements for the US, though. Guys are not very happy about it, you know how they love greeting with the fans. But no can do. We love our fans, but I’m not putting my friends in danger because of them. In the current events, we can’t take the risk._  
 _We had two groups of fans getting into a fight last night, apparently because of the anti-Trump speech Ole gave during the gig. I mean, he wasn’t wrong, but I hope next time he talks politics he’s not high as fuck. Hopefully no one was hurt. And we’re ready to get everyone who stood on our side out of jail, already talked about that with the guys._  
 _Emil is doing well here, I’d never…”_

Emil stopped the video, he turned around and took off the headphones.

“You should stop talking about me in those vlogs. You know I’ll cut those parts out,” he smiled towards Elliot, who was napping on the incredibly small couch.

“They said they wanted to hear _everything_ about the tour, didn’t they?” the long-haired man muttered, half asleep. “You’re important to me. So let them see it.”

Emil got up, leaving the laptop behind on the table. He still didn’t get used to living in the tiny tour bus. For someone as tall as him with long legs that just refused to fit anywhere, it was a tiny hell. But he was willing to pull through for his man. He made his way to Elliot and flopped on top of him. It was midday, but, since they spent most of the nights awake, it was usually the time of everyone’s sleep.

“If not me, _they_ ’re gonna cut it out, you know…” he yawned and nuzzled his face in Elliot’s chest.

“They can try, I’ll protect the parts about you with my own body. Or with my own lawyer, it depends,” Emil felt Elliot’s chest lifting up as he laughed.

It’d been rough three years. Way rougher than he could ever imagine. Just a year ago Elliot had one of the worst meltdowns of his life and it didn’t seem like he would leave the house ever again. Yet, here they were, in the middle of the US, more in love than ever. He still wasn’t sure who to thank, who the guardian angel above protecting them from complete insanity was. All he knew was that he was thankful and, despite still being extremely careful, he was happy again. At least a bit.

Soon after the tragedy, they moved. Elliot sold his house and they both made their way to the countryside. Emil dropped his Czech citizenship. His country was just a reminder of all the bad things in his life – his parents, figure skating, the times he spent there with his late friends. Jenda, Emil’s younger brother, moved to Uppsala. He still visited Emil and Elliot, but whenever he did, he visibly avoided his brother’s boyfriend. Even though Elliot never seemed to blame him, Jenda couldn’t find the strength to really talk to him. He felt guilty.

 Their new house was tiny – a big difference from their previous, giant two-store house. Now all they had was a bedroom, a living room, tiny bathroom and a kitchen with a tiny table for two. They didn’t intend to invite visitors in anymore. They didn’t intend to have a dog anymore, hence the lack of a backyard.

Elliot fell deep in his depression, the same nasty disease that had been in remission for the previous few years. Emil often found him sitting on the sofa, staring blankly on the black screen on the unpluggedTV. Other days he was just crying in the bed for hours. Other days he was curled up in the bathtub with the bathroom door wide open – Emil removed the locks from all the inside doors anyways. Some days he spent sitting at the dining table with an empty coffee mug in his hand and seemed okay, just to be found throwing everything across the living room in a fit of rage an hour later.

Emil tried everything to calm him down, then to bring him back to life again, to make him find peace and to find happiness. He patiently rode his partner across the country to his doctors. He made sure to dress Elliot up every morning, not to let him wander around in dirty clothes. He made sure to force him to shave and to brush his teeth. He made sure Elliot ate, even if it was just a little. He made sure the house was clean and they had everything they needed. All that while he was under a constant attack of the public.

He broke Mickey’s heart. He killed Mickey and Sara Crispino. He killed Frida Holmberg. He was the bad influence all along. He ruined Elliot Holmberg’s life. He made the Ekklund disband. The Crispinos hated him. Mila Babicheva hated him. The figure skating world hated him. The music industry hated him. The whole Sweden hated him.

Yet, there was not a day he would think of moving away. There was not a day he would stumble. There was not a day he would complain. There was not a day he was not absolutely sure he would get his man out of this misery. He started every day with the same kind and loving smile he ended the day before with.

It took two whole years to get Elliot back on his feet. To get him at least slightly interested in the world around him again. It was the night Elliot suddenly turned around in the bed and wrapped his arms around Emil – something he hadn’t done ever since his daughter passed away – when Emil realized they were out of the worst.

Elliot got significantly better. He didn’t smile, he never did. But he started talking to his friends, he started talking to his neighbours, he started doing the groceries on his owns from time to time. That was all Emil needed – to know Elliot was willing to live again.

On Frida’s birthday that year, he broke down again. Emil found him weeping in the kitchen when he came home from a run and there was nothing he could do to soothe the aching soul of this broken man.

It was the first and the last time Elliot landed his hand on Emil during a rage fit. Emil was a well-built man, but suddenly he found himself lying on the floor, his mouth and nose bleeding. It wasn’t one hit. After the pain ran through his head a dozen times, he lost consciousness.

They never spoke of it.

Elliot insisted, but Emil refused.

They never spoke of it.

Six months later Elliot called his band back together and they started practising. He needed to stop weeping. He needed to get away from this miserable dark hole. He needed to do what used to make him so happy – to play. Within a few months they put together a big comeback tour, a very intensive one, that would allow him to get back on the right track, to think about music and nothing else, to forget about everything that happened back home. And he wouldn’t leave the love of his life at that dark place. Emil was officially retired from sport and unemployed for the past two years, so the band hired him. He did everything, from carrying the equipment, helping the sound and light guys and editing the videos for the upcoming documentary about the band, to taking care of Elliot and making sure he would stay both mentally and physically fit. He was the boy for everything and he was busy and tired, but he never complained.

“Are you listening?” Elliot’s voice jerked Emil back to reality. He felt the older man’s lips on his nose, still slightly bent to the right from the accidental assault.

“Yeah, yeah, lawyer, blah blah…” Emil yawned and, again, nuzzled closer to Elliot. There was silence.

“How are you feeling?” Emil asked finally. It was a question Elliot was waiting for the whole day. It was _the day_ , after all. The day they lost Frida. Emil didn’t know how his partner would take it this year, but, for some reason, he seemed calm. Way calmer than usual.

Elliot shifted slightly and soon Emil felt two soft hands taking his head. The ocean blue eyes met with the wise green ones.

“How are _you_ feeling?” Elliot asked. Emil didn’t quite understand.

“Where are you going with this?” he asked quietly, too afraid to blink at that point. His body stiffened in the other man’s embrace.

“You ask me every year. Every year you’re worried about me. It’s time I was worried about you from now on,” Elliot said in his deep voice and gently kissed Emil.

“I still don’t really underst-“

“You’ve been taking care of me for way too long, Mili, darling. You remember what I said the night you agreed to live with me?”

Emil squinted and the tip of his tongue appeared between his lips, just like every time he was thinking. For the love of God, he didn’t remember.

“I said I would be here for you no matter what. That you were my responsibility and I loved you,” Elliot reminded him and his thumbs travelled across Emil’s cheekbones. Their eyes were still linked and their foreheads touched.

“I need to take care of you from now on, Mili. It’s been so rough for you, all of this, I took you away from your home, I had you take responsibility over my daughter, I had you take care of me, there is just so much on your shoulders because of me, honey… I made you grow up so early, I’m so sorry…”

“Y-You don’t have to be… Seriously, Elliot, where are you going with this?”

But a long, loving kiss was the response.

“How are you feeling, Mili?” Elliot asked again, his warm hands melting into Emil’s cold skin. “How are you _really_ feeling?”

A shower of tears soon soaked Elliot’s hands.

“I… I feel so useless…”

 

“… _And we’re ready to get everyone who stood on our side out of jail, already talked about that with the guys._  
_Emil is doing well here, I’d never expect him to get used to this lifestyle so quickly. I mean, he’s an amazing and hard-working man, can’t deny that. But, you know, it’s not every day you have to switch from figure skating to babysitting a group of six old guys. He’s amazing. I…_  
 _I don’t know what I’d do without him. I’ve never met a person like Emil, never again in my life. He’s such a joy to be around, it’s like… Like he has this sunshine inside of him, radiating all around him. Everyone he touches becomes happy instantly. And the sadder he is, the more he makes sure people around him are happy and safe. When I met him eight years ago, I became happy instantly. He brought me from so much shit back then and… And he did it again, you know, when Frida… When Frida left us…_  
 _I don’t think he understands how much he does for me, haha… He thinks what he’s doing is just… Like, something every partner would do, but it’s not. Every other person would leave right after that time I…_  
 _I love him. I want him to be happy. I…_  
 _I’ll marry him…”_


End file.
